


With every freckle and eyelash

by TheOrangeAurora



Series: Domestic drabbles and oneshots [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, terrible coordination and failed basic mathematics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:32:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOrangeAurora/pseuds/TheOrangeAurora
Summary: Inspired by the concept: drunk Dan trying to count Phil’s freckles while Phil just laughs fondly because Dan keeps losing count.





	

The glass clinked loudly against the wooden table when it was set down by shaky hands of an unfocused gaze. The room was filled with joyful giggles and the sound of a random Vine compilation video in the background that had been forgotten after about three Vines.

“Hey, hey, Phil, hey,” Dan tried to reach out for the older man and try not to slip off the sofa at the same time. Fingers finally locking onto Phil’s forearm, he pulled himself closer to the paler figure and Phil laughed, reaching out to wrap the other arm around his friend to help him get a comfortable seat on the sofa once more “What is it?” He set the glass away as well, almost missing the edge of the little table in the process, but after a little moment of furrowed-brow thinking, he had managed to do it and the accomplishment brought another laughter, bubbling, from deep within his gut.

“C’m'ere,” Dan, without much patience pulled his friend back and to lean back into the sofa, resting his own weight against Phil’s side as if in attempt to hold him down.

Phil couldn’t stop laughing the whole time, for Dan may or may not have effectively poked Phil’s ticklish sides a couple of times accidentally. “What are you doing?!” He breathed, only to silence when he found his friend’s face, eyes as focused as his drunken state allowed, very close to his own, staring intensively.

Phil had to go cross-eyed a little, but it was clear that whatever had caught Dan’s attention was somewhere beneath the lashes.

“Daaaan,” Phil, restricted from proper movement and stuck with Dan’s alcohol-filled breath blowing into his face with every exhale and, what seemed like a soundlessly muttered, word, whined.

“Shhhhh– Shit, I lost it,” Dan waved his hand at Phil, trying to silence him before he grumbled.

Curious and shaking with silent laughter, Phil slapped at Dan’s shoulder lightly “Come on, what did you lose? Your face is riiiiiiiight there,” And with that he poked Dan right where the dimple would appear to accent every moment of happiness.

“Phil!!!! Shut up, I’m counting!!!!” This time Dan flailed before putting a clumsy finger on Phil’s lips in attempt to silence the other man, only to poke his friend in the teeth. Phil jumped before beginning to wheeze lightly with laughter. Dan scrunched up his nose again, wiping his finger off on Phil’s shirt,and proceeded to pout “That’s not fair!!! I can’t count them like this! I need to start over again!!!!”

Sometimes Phil found it hard to remember that Dan was in his 20s and not actually a 5-year-old child.

At these same times Phil found himself leaning over in laughter, cramp in the sides and tears springing to the corners of his eyes. Dan, arms crossed over his chest and the pout growing on the features, just stared at him, swaying a little in the process, both due to drunkenness and because Phil’s laughter was literally making the sofa move by now.

It was only when Dan had humphed and turned his head, that Phil looked up, wiping at his eyes and taking in the brilliant image that was Dan acting childish. For some reason it was a sight that warmed Phil’s heart for years now and it continued to do so even in the absence of sobriety and logic.

Quickly, angling his body towards Dan, he leaped, tackling his friend back and onto the worn-out sofa. Dan squeaked, then - oofed, as his back collided with the plush surface, only to offer Phil yet another pout when he realised that the other man was lying on top of him, chests close, legs - tangled together, slight teary wetness still lighting up Phil’s blue eyes.

“Got you,” Phil grinned down at Dan and Dan’s face twisted for a moment, trying to keep the expression, but unable to, soon breaking out in a wide, dimply grin as well. “Now I can count!” came the unexpected, cheerful announcement and Dan shifted, the feeling underneath him making Phil a little dizzy, until a finger pressed against his cheek, this time a lot more focused and Phil blinked down at Dan as the realisation slowly hit him. “I’ve always wondered how many are there on your face,” Dan almost purred as he spoke and Phil just watched as his friend kept on counting, patiently. Clearly, he lost the count a couple of times, but the younger braved on until he managed a gleeful cheer.

“So how many are there?” Phil inquired, eyelids drooping a little; he loved watching Dan count. It was so calming that all of his limbs had relaxed as he observed those dark eyes, those crinkles around the eyes, in the forehead and on the nose while Dan focused, the proximity that would allow him to count every eyelash and the scent, though full of alcohol, still so very distinctly - Dan.

“Thirty-eight, give or take a few,” Dan announced, proudly, though voice was slurred with a mixture of alcohol and sleep. Phil reached out to push a stray curl out of Dan’s face as he leaned that little bit closer, noses nearly touching in the process ’‘Well then,” he murmured, breathing in the other man, a slight shake in the exhale “I love you with my every freckle to every last of your lashes.”

When their lips touched, it was a sweet feeling, the acid and bitterness of the spirits barely noticed. Eyes closed, hearts beating in calm rhythm, their rhythm. There was always laughter, there was always loving and there was an endless supply of embraces and kisses and Phil would give everything to live in it for the eternity.


End file.
